


Ribbons

by Moonstruckidiot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Hannibal is in his mid thirties, Happy Ending, Lecter Castle, M/M, No Sex, Protective Hannibal, Soul Mates AU, UST, Will is in his mid twenties, getting to know each other - sort of, im creating worlds again, the tree man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9147907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruckidiot/pseuds/Moonstruckidiot
Summary: In a world where soulmates are literally tied to each other Will follows his destiny to Hannibal2/june - im currently a bit blocked on chapter 5, not the ideas behind it put the words! They are just not right. I will continue trying though. :-)4/ sept - I do intend to finish this but it wont be anytime too soon. Im going to write the remaining chapters and post in one go. :-)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read, all mistakes are mine
> 
> This first chapter is basically scene setting

Destiny. Will Graham knows a thing or two about it. He is no different to anyone else, his destiny is tied to his wrist.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of lines connect humans to people, places and animals which will impact, with varying degrees of significance, on their lives.

Only the destiny line, or ribbon as it is commonly called, is visible. Fortunately only the wearer, with a few rare exceptions, can see their own ribbon. Most of the time it merges into the environment only a shimmer giving away its presence.

Through out the world there are roughly two hundred people who are gifted with the ability to ‘see’ the ribbons and the colours they bear. Colour gives an indication of what lies at the other end, purple indicates glory, gold a fortune and blue true love.  It is estimated that roughly thirty percent of the gifted are ‘readers,’ those who are able to see to the next fork in destiny's road and offer insight into the choices to be made.

Destiny, fate, or whatever people choose to call it, is fickle. Some who choose to follow their ribbon find love, fame or some other way in which their dream comes true. For every happy ending though there are those for whom destiny is not so kind, they find death waiting in the guise of a stranger, their fortune earned at the cost of a lost limb or some other misfortune which was ‘meant to be’.

Knowing the colour can help decide if following destiny is worth the risk. It has long been the practice for religious organisations, monarchs, governments and, in more recent times, global corporations to acquire those who can see the ribbons. In exchange for comfort and protection the gifted ‘see’ for those who can afford it. Most ordinary people cannot afford the cost of a consultation.

OoO

Will Graham picked up the large rucksack from its resting place by the front door and slipped his arm through the strap. It was much too big for what it contained, a few items of clothing, a toothbrush, some emergency snacks and other odds and ends.

Wolf Trap has been his home for two years. Long enough to make a friend, Alana, and pick up a stray dog, Winston. He’s leaving them both behind but at least they will have each other for company.

Travelling light, without people or things, comes easily to Will. As a child he followed his father from one town to the next never enough time to accumulate detritus but enough to wonder what a normal life would be like.

As Will stepped across the threshold into the open air he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He filled his mind with the cloudless blue sky, the clean air and the soft calls of animals and birds. This place had brought him peace for while. He’d managed to build  something which resembled a normal life or as close to it as he thought himself capable. It hadn’t been enough to stop the urge, which had been building for years, to seek out his destiny.

As he walked towards his car the ribbon appeared to dance merrily in the breeze. It had lain for years just on the very edge of his vision, not quite out of mind, or out of sight, but close enough. Triumphant, that’s how it looked, thought Will. It seemed alive as it climbed high, then dipped before rising again to loop the loop. Will knew it was just a projection of his hope. The hope tucked away into the deepest, dark, threadbare corner of his well used rucksack.

The ribbon is red, a deep, blood red. Will remembered it being a pastel shade of blue, he was very young when it started to change. Some nights he had watched mesmerised as a new coating of red ran along the ribbon. He expected it to coat his hands but it would always stop just before it touched his skin.  

OoO

Familiar roads and trees grew smaller before they disappeared from Will’s rear view mirror. Doubt flitted through his head, was he doing the right thing? He glanced to the side at the shadow where Winston, all wagging tail and lolling tongue, normally sat. He would miss his dog but with no idea where he was headed, maybe oversea he didn’t really know, Will was certain leaving him with Alana was the responsible thing to do. There was marriage and children in Alana’s future, a normal family life something Will was sure he would never have.   

The ribbon led to Baltimore and when it disappeared Will knew he was in the exact place he was meant to be.

Will was one of the gifted and to him every street was a riot of colour. His mind was always tempted to follow the ribbons and see where they led. It would be so easy to get trapped amongst the colours and the stories waiting to be told.

_Don’t look, kiddo_ , said a voice in his head. His father’s voice, it always came at moments when Will struggled to turn away from the colour. It could just have been the breeze but it seemed to him fingers calloused by years of manual labour brushed through his hair, _Don’t look, it’ll be OK._ Will did as he was told, he lowered his head and walked,  eyes never lingered, seeing but not seeing.

He left the chaos of the streets and entered the foyer of a small hotel. He had stayed there once before when he had been called into the city on business. The rooms were comfortable, the staff friendly and most importantly it was not overran with guests. Larger hotels afforded a greater level of anonymity but at the cost of too much colour. A few miles outside the city centre but with good connection this hotel was an ideal base. 

Will set his bag down on a double bed. He didn’t unpack, the few things he had might just as well stay where they were as rattle around in a cupboard. He rummaged down to the bottom, fingers skimmed the fluff and crumbs of previous travels and then pulled out an old paperback book.

It was a treasure box of sorts, its yellowing pages rarely seeing the light of day. Will’s father had started it. As a young man high on life he’d placed movie tickets from his first date with a girl called Lara between its pages. Other things followed, a wedding certificate, a birth certificate and Will’s first painting. It was more of a green and red splodge but it had been admired as much as a Picasso before being folded and slipped inside the book.

There is a photo too. Will held the faded photo as he sat on the edge of the hotel bed. It came to life in his hands. On the sort of bright blue day when all dreams are possible his mother, quick as flash, placed a kiss on his father’s cheek, the sound of laughter resounded around the walls of Will’s mind. They looked almost shy with one another but they were true loves. His mother had followed her own ribbon into the arms of his father.

Will didn’t remember her very well, or at all really. He couldn’t tell if his memories were authentic or pieced together from the photo and the bedtime stories his father told.

She was one of a few people in north America who could read the ribbons. The gift is not known to run in families, it is not something passed down through genes, but Will is almost certain his father could see the ribbons too. He will never know for sure because after his mother disappeared his father forbid any mention of the gift. _Don’t look, don’t speak_ became his mantra and he instilled it into his little boy’s head.

OoO

The photograph was slide back between its allotted pages then an old leather belt was tied around the overstuffed book to secure its contents.  The belt was one of Wills from his childhood. When new it had been pastel blue, much of the colour had peeled off just the odd bit clinging to the seams. His mother had bought him it, it is the only thing he has from her.

Normally the book would be placed back at the bottom of the rucksack, but instead Will slide it onto the small bedside table.

He picked up the bag up from its position on the bed and perched it on a chair near the window. It would remain on view, a reminder of the temporary nature of his stay. An hour, a week, a year or even a decade could pass before the ribbon showed itself again but Will knew Baltimore was just a stopping off point and not his journey’s end.

At a time when most hotel guests would be heading out to bars and restaurants hunger started to creep up on Will. He wasn’t sociable by nature and the thought of all those strangers and their colours made him want to climb into bed, pull the sheets over his head and curl up.

Will had brought enough food stuff to make a simple picnic. A packet soup and an apple finished off with complementary hotel tea and biscuits. He’d never seen the point in extravagant meals. Food was fuel he made sure he had enough to keep his engine in good condition but that was it. He reckoned most people ate and drank too much, it dulled their senses and made them lazy.  

With a practiced arm the apple core hit the inside of the bin in one throw. Will got off the bed and headed towards the bathroom leaving a pile of clothes on the floor. His bedtime routine was simple, a piss, a quick wash and a brush of his teeth before he climbed into bed dressed only in his boxers.

The hotel pillows were comfortable, much better than the saggy old ones he’d left in Wolf Trap. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes meandered along an old thin crack but his mind was elsewhere.  What would his mother have thought about him beginning his journey. Would she have been excited about him setting out to find his true love, he likes to think she would have. Or would she have stood with his father and tried to talk him out of it. Even though his father had been dead just under a decade Will still flinched at the thought of the fights his decision would have caused. Raised voices sounded in his head disturbing the ease he felt at finally doing what he was meant to do. He may be an adult but he knew, if his father had still been alive it is unlikely he would be in a hotel room in Baltimore waiting for his ribbon to appear.

Will reached above his head and turned a reading light off. He curled onto his side and snuggled into the duvet. Darkness cloaked him, hiding him from the world and the world from him. Senses dimmed he barely registered the noises from the world outside his door. His mind mumbled to itself for a while, thoughts bubbled up and drifted away. He quickly fell into nothingness.

Glowing red numbers met Will’s heavy eyes. He shook his head and peered closer. The clock on the bedside cabinet read 01:05, it couldn’t be right. Will was a very good sleeper. His father had been fond of saying he could sleep on a washing line. He rubbed the palm of his hand into his eyes and looked again. Only a minute had passed. For a split second he considered throwing a pillow at the offending object but instead he rolled over and closed his eyes.

Then snapped them open. The red ribbon hung on the door handle.


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s a strange place to find yourself this early in the morning, Mr?”

“Yes it is,” agreed Will as he blinked his way back to a world where a tree blossomed on a winter’s night.

He had followed the ribbon to a deserted car park. There had been just enough natural and artificial light to break up nights dense hold over the area. It had seemed to Will his ribbon hung in the air, no not the air.  His eyes and mind had strained to make sense of the limbs. No, not limbs. Branches. To make out the branches on which the ribbon lay.

Will had moved forward. The ribbon his invitation to take a closer look. How did this tree connect to him he wondered.

He had not been certain of what he saw. Was he dreaming he asked himself. The image before him could easily be part of a dreamscape. An ancient tree spirit. Perhaps it would open its all-seeing eyes and speak prophecy. Or was it his subconscious giving voice to the discomfort he felt at leaving the safety of his isolated rural home for the concrete heart of the city.  

Will’s body had known it was none of these things. He had stumbled backward as if repulsed by physical force. His mind though, even as his heart raced and his breath stuttered, it had opened up and absorbed every root, every blossom, every inch of flesh.

Could the secret of its creator be traced amongst the dendrite like branches. Not that Will had expected to find a signature on this work of art. It had felt entirely natural to absorb the tree man and its unique world in such minute detail he had been able to walk through its story looking for his quarry and their connection.  

 “Graham, my names Will Graham,” said Will as he refused the hand extended to help him up from the ground.

Will couldn’t remember falling. How long he’d been sat on the wet concrete was anyone’s guess.  Long enough for night to be pushed back by the approaching dawn, for his hair to become soaked in the fine mist which had crept over the parking lot and for police vehicles to turn up.

He dusted down his trousers paying particular attention to the dozens of tiny stones which clung to his backside. The pulsing soreness on the right side of his hip was a good indication of how he had landed. He felt ridiculous at not being able to remember what would have been a hard fall but there were more immediate things to worry about.  

He took his time before turning to the two men in front of him. They were not much taller than him, an inch or two at best, but broad shoulders enhanced by well made coats gave them a solidness he didn’t have.  

Their presence made him feel guilty. Not an unusual feeling when cornered by police officers. Guilty, trapped and afraid with a rising sense of panic. He took a deep breath to calm himself, he’d done nothing wrong after all. How was he to explain himself. Surely they wouldn’t believe he had done it, he’d have to be an inept murderer to be caught at the scene. The thought, _Its probably more common then you think,_ flitted through his head then he spiralled into all the possibilities which could lead to his imprisonment.

“Mr Graham, if we could have your attention.”

Will looked up. “Yeah sure,” he muttered to the man who introduced himself as Jack Crawford.

It was the letters FBI which made Will’s heart race as his body primed itself to flee. The FBI was known for investigating criminal organisations and tracking down serial killers. It was less well known that they also brought in those who could read the ribbons. There were even rumours that a few agents had turned free lance and sold readers to the highest bidder. Will had no intention of ending up on the FBI’s radar. He would keep the habit of a life time and not mention ribbons at all.

As swift as Will was he knew he stood no chance of making a clean get away. So he would just have to be Will Graham an ordinary guy in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I couldn’t sleep and I was just out walking and,” Will paused as impassive brown eyes met his own.

“And you ended up at a murder scene.” Will looked away he couldn’t help himself he was sure Jack sensed he was hiding something. So much for being an ordinary guy.

For a moment Will wanted to say, _Go home and get your soulmate to a doctor_. The pale blue ribbon tied to Jack’s wrist had begun to fade. It had not faded by much just enough for Will to know Jack’s soulmate was seriously ill and possibly dying. Will could easily know what lay ahead all he had to do was look.  At some point in Jack’s future there might be a fork in the road, a chance to change destiny. It was part of Will’s nature to want to read the ribbons and to help who he could. It had become increasingly difficult to not be seduced by the colour but no matter how deeply the urge to look scratched he wouldn’t do it. Will felt sad for Jack and his soulmate but no one ever promised life would be easy.

 “Yeah,” said Will. His eyes returned to the tree man. “When I saw it, it was a shock you know. I just thought it was a tree and then when I got closer.”

“It was dark the details could have easily been missed if you’d simply walked by. What drew you closer?” Will knew Jack was peering at him, scrutinising his face. He’d betrayed himself earlier, Will was sure of it. Maybe it was his fear of the FBI. Or his guilt at possessing such tragic knowledge about Jack’s soulmate. It might have been nothing more than a lick of lips, a swallow or some other minute sign which normal people would miss but Jack had not.

“I don’t know,” Will pushed the palm of his hand over his forehead and through his hair. “Something just seemed off.”

Jack nodded and remained silent. He looked as if he too thought something was off, but with Will not the tree man.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it though if that’s what you think.”

“Why would we think that Mr Graham. You are just helping us with our enquiries.” _Oh,_ thought Will, _but you’re a blood hound who has scented something_.

“Well, I,” Will paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. He wondered if he was acting like a normal witness to a hideous crime. Would they be overwhelmed by the horror of it, would they be relieved when the police arrived. “I was here when you turned up.”

“What did you think when you were sat there looking at him?”

Will’s eyes flickered wide, he’d not expected that question. It didn’t seem an appropriate thing to ask. “I don’t know how that would help,” he said. He wrapped his arms around himself trying to ward off the tiredness which was seeping into his bones.

“Please, sometimes the most unlikely things can help us with our investigation.”

“I was shocked, horrified, what do you expect,” said Will.  It was the truth, so much so that he’d fallen over backwards with the shock.

Sitting there though, for what could easily have been hours, reading the scene before him the horror and fear of it had slipped away. “But... I know how this is going to the sound. But there, I can’t really believe I’m going to say this, but there is a, a beauty to it.” He couldn’t look at the men in front of him. It felt shameful to admit such a thing. If they didn’t think he was the killer they would probably now have him pegged for a serial killer fan boy. Either way he’d confirmed to them he was not quite right. “The tree is in blossom, the flowers colourful. It reminds me of a pretty package wrapped up for someone special.” He stuttered the last line out. It had felt exhausting to admit such a personal thing, something so taboo. He really couldn’t believe he’d said it, given voice to its beauty outside the privacy of his own skull. A thought flickered at the back of his head, better they think your fear and guilt is due to shameful thoughts than the truth.

“Interesting,” said Jack. “What else?””

Will gave a brittle little laugh and shook his head. “Isn’t that your job agent what ever your name is. Take me in for questioning if you want but I think that’s enough.”

Jack’s face hardened for a moment and Will cursed his own troublesome mouth. Then, much to Will’s surprise, the man standing slightly behind Jack smiled. At least he parted his lips in what Will assumed was a smile. The very tips of his teeth were visible. They looked quite sharp thought Will, and not quite human.

“Mr Graham doesn’t fit the profile Jack and quite frankly he looks exhausted. Let one of the officers finish his statement and I think Miss Katz has something she wants to tell you.” Will felt a sudden rush of gratitude to the man who had until that moment remained quiet. He’d assumed he was Jack’s subordinate but now Will wasn’t so sure, the man carried a certain sort of authority.

Jack nodded in agreement. “Thank you Mr Graham, you can be on your way soon.”

The other man turned to follow Jack, then hesitated. “I’m glad you were not walking by a few hours earlier,” he said with the same sharp toothed smile.

“Yeah so am I,” said Will. He looked one more time at the tree man. Its branches no longer held his ribbon. With a sigh he resigned himself to staying in Baltimore for the foreseeable future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop for Will a coffee shop (and just who does he meet???)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta, mistakes are mine

Laughter high and light rang out somewhere behind Will. Without conscious thought his head turned in response and he found himself stood at the front of a queue. He’d lost time to the setting of one foot in front of the other and the perpetual motion of his thoughts.  
His hand had pushed the door to the café open that much he knew. He had stood and waited his turn he knew that too. It had felt like someone else though, someone far away.  
“What would you like?” the young man’s smile was pleasant if a little tight around the edge.  
“Coffee” replied Will. It should have been a simple enough request but as Will stared blankly at the blackboard behind the counter he realised it was not.  
Will looked at the chalked list, his shoulders sagged under the weight of the decision.   
“Err,” was all Will could say to the Barista whose smile looked more like a sigh.  
“Get my friend an Irish coffee will you,” came an accent voice to his side.  
The voice was attached to a large solid shape which seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Will emerged from his daze and startled as he looked into the face of one of the FBI men from the other night.  
“Come sit with me I’m over in the corner. I’m Hannibal by the way,” and before Will knew it he was being escorted in the direction of a table.  
“You look tired, if you don’t mind me saying, Mr Graham,” said Hannibal once both of them were seated. Will had taken the chair opposite Hannibal sitting side-on to avoid having to look directly  at his companion.  
“Call me Will and yeah seeing a dead body will do that to you.” He didn’t say he’d walked for nearly a day after leaving the murder scene. It hadn’t been trying to understand the murderscape, which now seemed etched into his cerebral cortex, but his own reaction to it.  
“Yes that is true,” said Hannibal as he turned off his tablet.  
“Oh, you don’t need to stop what you're doing on my account.”  
“Nonsense. That would be rude of me and I’m more than happy to have your company.”  
“I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of dead bodies, FBI and all.”  
“I’m not an agent but the FBI retain my services on a consultant basis for certain types of cases.”  
“Oh, I suppose you can’t talk about them or you’ll have to kill me.” Will chuckled to himself, more at himself, what a ridiculous thing to say. He is not good at conversations they always end in long uncomfortable pauses before whoever was trying to talk to him found an excuse to leave. He wondered how long it would take for Hannibal to find he had an urgent appointment. Will glanced at a clock on the wall, OK its 10:10, he thought, I’ll give him till 10:20.  
“You are right I can't talk about them. But we can talk about the one last night if it would help you.”  
“When I close my lids I can see him there, I feel...”  
“Horrified, shocked.”  
“Yeah, something like that.” More like horrified at himself that he could find beauty in such a thing. Who finds a murder beautiful, Will thought, certainly not anyone sane. What does it say about him. It was beautiful though. Will wants to tell his mind to Fuck off and stop admiring the killer’s handiwork. He’s also more than a little relieved Hannibal can’t hear his thoughts.  
“You said you found beauty in it.”  
“Did I? I cant remember. It must have been the shock talking.”  
“I think you do,” said Hannibal, “and I believe it is your horror of that which has kept you up and, if I am not mistaken, walking the streets.”  
Who is this guy and what the fuck is he doing in my head, thought Will.  
“Don’t worry I’m not telepathic just a psychiatrist.”   
An amused chuff left Hannibal’s lips, he tried to hide it by taking a sip of his coffee. It didn’t take telepathy or a degree in psychiatry to read the look of horror on Will’s face. Most people’s instincts were to recoil, internally at least, when they knew his profession. Once they were assured he could not read their minds and find their dirty secrets, they normally relaxed and often divulged their, mostly predictable, secrets anyway.  
 “You have nothing to be ashamed.”  
“Yeah, only if I’m a psychopath,” said Will with a laugh, it caught in his throat. He shook his head in despair at himself and felt the urge to apologise for being such a terrible breakfast companion.  
“You want the white picket fence and all the trimmings. Or at least you think you want it. Your mind betrays your aspiration to be normal, to fit in. How you see and think is not socially acceptable so it's better to stay away from people then risk them coming for you at night with pitchforks and lit torches. Does God care for social acceptance. What could be more unacceptable than letting a church roof collapse on the faithful, yet it happens and more regularly than you’d think. You are many things Will but a psychopath is not one of them.”  
At some point Will had turned to face Hannibal directly. As he listened three things struck him, Hannibal liked the sound of his own voice but by the look of the distinctive suits he wore that almost went without saying.  He also did not see things in the same way others did and maybe, just maybe, here was a man Will might feel comfortable with.  
Hannibal finished his coffee and got up from the table. Will’s eyes met the clock, it was 10.35.  
“I’m afraid I have clients to attend to, it has been my pleasure to have your company.”  
'And mine yours', it should have been simple enough to say but whilst the words formed easily in Will’s mind they didn’t make it to his mouth. He nodded and smiled over the top of his cup.  
In silence Hannibal slipped on his coat and did up his buttons. “I come here often, “ he said as he walked away.  


OoOoO  
The next morning Will stood in line, he looked straight ahead and slightly down. He had a good view of people’s backs, legs and feet. It made no difference to him who was in the café or so he said to himself. He just needed something to wake him up and the coffee here was better than the hotel. There were plenty of magazines lying around he’d read one of them. It would be fine. For all his apparent disinterest in the other customers he still felt sweaty and a few butterflies had taken up residence in his belly. He considered getting a takeout.   
This time getting a coffee was much simpler and quicker. Will turned cup in hand and tried to ignore the pumping of his heart as he quickly scanned the room. He started at the opposite corner to the one he’d sat at the day before. There were a few spare chairs here and there but no empty tables. He couldn’t repress a nervous gulp as his eyes finally came to the last corner. Hannibal was stood up waiting and if Will wasn’t mistaken there was a little victorious glint in his eye. A hand gestured for him to come and sit down. Will threaded his way through chairs, tables and the odd bag left lying inconsiderately on the floor. He couldn’t quite get control of the smile which flickered on his face.  
“You look well rested this morning Will,” Hannibal observed as Will took his seat.  
“Yes, I slept much better. How are you Hannibal?” Will had had to remind himself to ask. He’d rehearsed the words in his head as he’d made his way over. Spending so much time on his own he often forgot those kind of social niceties.  
“I’m very well thank you,” replied Hannibal.  
And with the pleasantries out of the way Hannibal turned his attention to his tablet and Will felt tension release from his shoulders. He was grateful there was a paper left folded on the table, he took it and the two men sat quietly.  
Will found it easier than normal to relax around Hannibal. There was no ribbon tied to his wrist. Whilst this was not uncommon it was not the norm. Half a century ago a movement had started encouraging people to remove their ribbon. It was easier then it might first appear. All that was required was a pair of scissors and a wish to make ones own destiny. A symbolic cut to the destiny line and it would vanish forever. It was estimated that 1 in 15 people had cut the ribbon. Will reckoned it was less.  
Hannibal, it seemed to Will, looked like the sort of person who did not leave things to fate and circumstance. It meant Will did not feel the urge to travel along Hannibal’s ribbon and see what destiny had in store; it was a blessed relief.  
“Will I see you tomorrow?” asked Hannibal interrupting Will’s silent thanksgiving.  
“Yeah, sure.”  
And that is how it went for weeks. A few things changed. There was always a coffee, pastry and fruit waiting for Will when he arrived. Uncomfortable at first Will tried to give Hannibal the money and he was always politely refused. He soon realised it was just Hannibal’s way, and accepted it for the token of friendship it was meant. Will always insisted on paying for their second cup or at least he tried to insist. For anyone who clock watched it was also noticeable that Hannibal stayed a little longer each day no longer hurrying off to his clients. Will supposed Hannibal’s morning appointments must have been rearranged but he didn’t think too much on the implication of that.  
Sometimes they would talk for what seemed to be hours and on other days they would just sit quietly and enjoy each others company. Even though the shop was a busy, bustling place it always seemed to Will to just be the two of them. The conversations he had with Hannibal were unlike anything he had had with anyone else. They exercised his brain and for all his evident good education Hannibal never made Will feel inadequate, he seemed to welcome Will’s curiosity.  
It was when they sat in silence, without the need to fill space and time with chit chat, that Will really felt kinship with Hannibal. His father was the only other person who had given him the same sort of quiet companionship.  


OoOoO  
It was a day for companionable silence. Will sat, a copy of National Geographic open, one arm resting on the table the other holding a cup of coffee to his lips. He was reading about the personal lives of Dolphins.  
His eyes went wide as he felt a hand lightly placed on top of his. Hannibal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect Will nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee.  
“Will,” said Hannibal, wanting Will’s attention to be on his face and not his hand.  
 “Hmm,” replied Will, quickly glancing up as Hannibal leaned forward across the table.  
“Would you like to come to the theatre with me?”  
Will’s heart rate went up a notch, he knew he should calmly accept, yes that would be nice, but calm was not something he did well.  
“Is it a date, date or a friendship date thing,” he asked the words slipped out rather hurriedly.  
“It is what ever you want it to be.”  
Oh, thought Will. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply as his mouth distorted into a grimace. It might have looked like disgust but truthfully it was an expression of pain. “Well you see, I don’t...”  
“Find men sexually attractive,” offered Hannibal, his face a question mark.  
“No, well yes. The truth is... I don’t find anyone...” Will sighed, dropped his head into his hands and left the sentence unsaid a slight blush was emphasis enough.  
“It is not unusual for those destined to meet a soulmate to feel a lack of sexual desire for others.”  
“What? How?”  
“It was a guess. Through out my career I have come into contact with enough people who are ’waiting.’ A sense of powerlessness, of a life on hold, they are often afraid to start something. It gets worse the longer they wait. You have not been waiting long.”  
“No, I haven’t, but why would you... when you know I can’t.”  
“I like you Will as a friend, or something more if that were possible.”  
Will rubbed his forehead, and peered intently at the grain of the wooden table top. He appreciated Hannibal’s honesty and his self possession.  
“I’d like to go to the theatre with you, if that is alright.”  
Hannibal smiled. “Yes it is.”  


OoOoO  
Three shirts, three pair of trousers, three sets of underwear which also did as sleepwear and that was Will’s entire wardrobe. There was nothing amongst the, admittedly threadbare, clothing which would have been suitable for a visit to a theatre. Even if he was not to walk side by side with a man who was always perfectly groomed and dressed Will would still have felt shamefully out of place.  
Stood in front of the bathroom mirror Will looked himself over, good enough, he thought.  
Even though the thought alone filled him with horror he’d gone out that morning, ‘Clothes shopping.’ It had seemed the less painful option when faced with the prospect of embarrassing Hannibal. Part of him knew Hannibal wouldn’t care what he wore, just showing up would be enough, but Will found it did matter to him.  
The first floor of a department store was as far as Will got before he broke into a sweat. He was grateful when a woman emerged from amongst the racks of clothing and rescued him. She showed him some appropriate jackets, trousers and shoes and said a pale blue shirt complemented his eyes. He thought it a ridiculously impractical reason for choosing an item of clothing but he’d bought it anyway. He’d also found himself sat in the chair of the stores barbers having his hair tamed and whiskers shaved.  
Will chastised himself for letting people take over for him like he was a little lost lamb but he had to admit he looked much more presentable, even if he didn’t look a day over sixteen. With a final dab of aftershave it was time to leave for the theatre.   


OoOoO  
Will walked around the corner and there stood Hannibal. He was beautiful, Will admitted to himself, sculptural like a Greek god.  
As they walked towards each other Will felt Hannibal’s eyes take all of him in. It felt good to be the centre of his world if only for a moment.  
Will came to a stop several feet from Hannibal. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. He was so very sorry.  
“The ribbon.” Hannibal said.  
Will nodded. It had been waiting for him when he stepped out of the bathroom.  
Hannibal had hoped for more time but fate it seemed would not even allow them this night.  He opened his arms and Will stepped in.  
Strength and warmth engulfed Will. Why had they never been this close before he wondered. Why had they done no more than touch hands, it seems so absurd now. He knew he’d regret it for the rest of his life.  
His nose found its way to Hannibal’s neck. He inhaled the scent of deep woods, night air and log fires. The stuff dreams are made of. “I could stay,” he whispered.  
“You cant.”  
“I know.” It’s the truth they both knew it. The need to follow the ribbon would grow in intensity until  it became overwhelming. Delaying only meant the inevitable tearing apart would be all the more painful. “I want to.”  
“I know,” said Hannibal as lay a kiss on Will’s hair.  
“I don’t even know your surname.”  
“Does it matter.”  Will supposed not.  
Lips were pressed to Hannibal’s neck. Not a kiss more a wish for what might have been. Will felt the hand on his waist drop away. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly then stepped back. Inches separated them now soon it would be much more.  
A tear started in the seams of Will’s heart. What a fool he was how could he not have known he was in love with the beautiful, dignified man in front of him.  
Hannibal smoothed down his coat, their eyes met for a moment.  
“Promise me Will, no matter how many years pass if you should ever be in trouble you’ll call me.”  
The thought gave comfort to Will even if he knew he never would.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will meets Chiyoh at Lecter Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this took to get done.  
> No beta - sorry for mistakes

Roof and turret piled one on top of the other until a sprawling mass became a fairy tale castle. A beautiful princess or a monstrous dragon could hide from the world behind the vine covered gates Will stood before. Topped with spikes and a coat of arms the gates were impressive but no doubt more symbolic of the inhabitants status than a real bar to anyone with even a modicum of determination and physical fitness. Will shook the rusted padlock which secured them, he was not in luck, old it may be but it was still fit for purpose so over the top it was.

Will had climbed many a fence, tree and wall in his youth when he had followed his father across the country. On occasion they had slept in derelict buildings his father always scouted the area out first before beckoning Will over whatever barrier stood in their way. So with a run and a high jump Will caught a secure hold and hoisted himself over the top and onto Lecter land.

The name Lecter had still been visible on the weather beaten coat of arms. The name felt, austere, authoritative and a little bit grand. It seemed to fit with this part of the world. Will restrained himself from seizing it and fitting it to a fantasy of his soulmate instead he allowed it to echo unguided around his mind. When following a ribbon it was best to not force matters, it was tempting to try and hurry things along but this could lead to bad decisions. Destiny’s path was not straight forward. There were forks along the route and at those points the ribbon would disappear. The general advice was to listen to oneself, have patience and pray for luck. It was so easy though to choose the wrong fork and never see the ribbon again.

The ribbon had taken Will from Hannibal’s embrace to the airport and then vanished. Stood in the middle of thousands of people he had never felt so alone or so desperate. It was an impossible place to make such an important, life changing decision. There was no logical way of selecting his destination, he might as well have placed a white ball in a roulette wheel and spun it.

Sweating and shaking he had boarded the plane to his chosen destination. A flight attendant smiled and asked how he was doing, all Will could do in response was grimace and dig his nails into the arm rest. His nervousness would be interpreted as fear of flying but it wasn’t that it was fear of fucking up fate, destiny, his life and the universe. He did the only reasonable thing under the circumstances he got drunk.

Outside Vilnius International Airport, Lithuania he breathed a sigh of relief the ribbon was waiting for him.

Once stood inside the gate Will had another choice to make, did he follow the path up to the front door or disappear into the woods to scout the place out. It was a much easier choice than the one he’d made back in Baltimore. It was only plucky heroines in romance novels who followed their ribbons to the front door of decaying mansions to find a handsome lord of the manor awaiting them. It was much more likely, thought Will, that he’d find himself eyeing the barrel of a gun, or the fangs of a vampire the place definitely had that feel.

Will turned into the woods. He had several hours of day light to check for signs of life at the castle before he had to decide where he would spend the night. If it appeared to be uninhabited he would find a warm corner to bed down, otherwise he’d spend the night amongst the trees. It would take no time to construct a lean-to to shelter under and his coat would be enough to keep him warm-ish for a night.

Mist clung to the castle and its land. Did it ever lift, Will wondered, or like dust had it laid claim to things long forgotten.  The undergrowth was dense and fallen tree trunks, ancient rocks and tumbled down grave stones all passed under his feet, he could easily trip. Even so Will was sure of foot and if a tree root or a hand had reached up and grasped him he would likely have kicked it off and kept moving.

Light began to fail and after trekking through the grounds Will had moved closer to the castle.  He concluded that if the castle was inhabited it was not by many. Humanity did not scurry around the building, nor its lands, trailing their ribbons after them. There was only one that he could see, it stretched through one door set in the base of the castle, the cellar perhaps, and rose upward to a room where one solitary light shone.

White was an unusual colour for a ribbon, destiny had ran its course and now there was only time waiting for the inevitable. Death waited for one at the hands of the other, Will shivered at the realisation. He stood a few moments and looked at the door where the ribbon came from. Should he enter and  see who the unfortunate person was, he asked himself. Alone in a country he knew nothing about it would not be wise to rush head long into something he could make worse. Whoever the person was they were not dead yet and judging from the colour of the ribbon there was no hurry to end his or her life. Will did not have long to think about a potential rescue mission, the ribbon began to float downwards, he would soon know who was at one end of the ribbon.

He turned and crept further back into the woods making sure not to break any of the twigs under his feet. From his cover amongst the trees he saw a woman emerge into a small clearing. Some men might have fancied their chances against this lone female, but not Will. He had several inches in height and girth on her but something in the way she moved and peered into the night reminded him of a stealth hunter. There was also the gun to contend with.

The weapon sat comfortably in the woman’s hands and if he made any sudden movements Will was sure she would drop him without hesitation. A noise far off caught her attention, she raised her gun and fired. The rustle of a dead thing falling confirmed she had hit her target. Will took a sharp breath in, when he set out to follow his ribbon he had not expected to hide in some woods and watch a potential killer take pot shots at birds. Turning back though was not an option, there was a reason why his ribbon fluttered around the castle and he needed to know it.

“Come out,” the woman called.

Will’s heart stopped and then he did what any sane man would do, he straightened up and with his hands above his head moved forward.

“My name is Will Graham, I’m from America and I’m following my ribbon,” he said by way of introduction as he stepped into the clearing. In this case, he had decided, honesty was probably the best policy.

She looked him over but didn’t say a word. Whatever was going on inside her head Will couldn’t read it in her eyes. With the barrel of a gun aimed at his back he entered the castle.

It was a little reassuring to Will that his ribbon gave no indication he was supposed to die quite yet. That didn’t rule out the possibility of torture or being held prisoner in the bowels of the ancient building he was being directed through. So when he found himself in a living room, the flicker of an open fire providing welcome light and warmth, he was relieved.

He was directed to sit in one of two chairs arranged opposite each other.

“Don’t run, or try anything,” the woman said motioning to her weapon. “I will catch you.” Will was sure she would.

A short while later she returned and to Will’s surprise she carried tea and biscuits. Thoughts of being tortured ebbed away from his mind but she was still dangerous, civilised maybe, but still dangerous.

She sat in the chair opposite and watched him. He was reminded of an owl, silent, alert and patiently waiting for the right prey to come into her sights. It was unnerving.

Clearing his throat Will spoke, “My ribbon led me here...”

“The one you seek, he is not a good man,” the woman said with a directness which didn’t surprise him. She seemed a woman who would not waste her time with small talk.

Will placed his head in his hands, he felt the truth in the words as they sank into his heart. No one wanted to hear their soulmate was bad, but it wasn’t unexpected, not after the prettily presented murder scene back in Baltimore. He had hoped, even prayed, that it was not the case, that his soulmate was not a killer, that there was another explanation.

The woman leaned forward and spoke softly as if she was comforting a broken heart, “it is better that you return to where you came.”

Will met her eyes and shook his head, his mind was clear on this point it always had been right from the start. “I am committed to the quest. I have no intention of turning back.”

She settled back into her chair and peered at him over her cup of tea, ‘fool’ was all but written in her stare.

“He’s as likely to snap your neck as kiss it. Do you have a death wish?” she asked.  

“No. I am just,” he paused and weighed the truth in his words. “Indifferent,” he concluded. He took a sip of tea only to put it down quickly, the thought of poison flitted through his head. She smiled at him, she had probably read his thoughts.

“Then you will be the proverbial lamb to the slaughter. If you do not value your own life he will not.”

Will looked at the woman sat opposite him. She was a decade, maybe more, older than him, attractive, intelligent and no one’s fool. Under that tough façade was a kind heart her advice was genuinely meant but he would not take it and she would not continue to waste her breath on dissuading him, the fool that he was.

“What is his name?” he asked.

“It is not for me to give and you will not find it here. It was scorched long ago.”

 _Scorched_ , Will repeated in his head. He wondered what had happened all those years ago. It’s a story which he would like to hear, but he’s not sure she is willing to tell it.

“What is your name,” he asked, once again picking up the cup in front of him. If she wanted him dead, he reasoned, she would have shot him, poisoning didn’t seem her style not efficient enough. “I’m here drinking tea with you I think we should be on first name terms, don’t you,” he added with a smile. Will breathed in the moist warmth of the tea and breathed out the tension he had been holding since the woods.

“Chiyoh,” she said. Will nodded his thanks.

“There is no way you will give me his name?” he thought it was worth another try.

“No, I would not give you such power over him, only he can do that.”

“You are surprisingly loyal to someone you would have me believe is a monster.” Can he be so bad, thought Will, if she who knows him is still loyal to him.

“Monsters are for fairy tales but he is as I described,” she said.

Chiyoh got up from her chair and started placing the cups, plates and teapot onto a tray, it was the end of the conversation.

As she passed by, Will reached out his hand and touched her wrist where a blue ribbon lay lifeless. Someone was fated to die at her hand but her destiny lay elsewhere. She had ignored it, to stay in the castle, and was perilously close to losing it altogether.

“Why have you never followed your own ribbon?” he asked.

Her gasp was almost inaudible. She stopped and looked down at her wrist which Will now held.

Will couldn’t help himself he got lost amongst her story. Like a passenger on a train, colours, pictures and people glided by him telling her future story. The exact route of her destiny was laid out, the forks to follow and the ones to ignore, he knew it all.

He let go off her wrist and sat back with a jerk. Words tumbled out of his mouth without any thought, “a man is waiting for you. Head for Spain. A girl too, your daughter, black hair, with your eyes, she will never live if you don’t go soon. He thinks about cutting the ribbon. I hope you like mountains he does.”

The temptation to travel along ribbons had always been there, as he got older it grew in intensity and sometimes he felt overwhelmed. It was also the surest way to get himself caught by government agencies. Very few people would turn away from the chance of the reward on offer. He had never looked to find out exactly how much he was worth but he knew it was a sum which wouldn’t just change one persons life but also the generations who would follow.

“You are like her,” whispered Chiyoh as she sat back down in her chair, the tray deposited back on the table between them. She lowered her gaze and looked away from Will, “Like Mischa.”

A feeling of disorientation was a residue of travelling the ribbons. It could take some time for Will’s thoughts to properly relocate themselves back in the present but the name was important. “Mischa?”

“Yes, his sister. She was The traveller before you. It seems you are destined to be with him, so perhaps it is best if I tell you a story. It will help you understand him.”

She told him of the winter when men came looking for Mischa, The traveller, the only one able to travel the ribbons and see someone’s future in all its complexity. Only one is in existence at any one time and sometimes a hundred years may pass between the death of one and the birth of another. Whilst, in the US, the FBI tracks all seers and readers, it is The traveller they and everyone else really wants to find. There is a special team just dedicated to the task of locating and securing The traveller. So far Will has never encounter them and he hoped it would remain that way.

Unfortunately for Mischa it was not the FBI who came knocking on her door, it was fortune hunters, ruthless men with no law except that of money to keep them in check. She died by accident, they would not knowingly harm the goose which laid the golden egg, but it was their fault all the same.

Their cruelty extended to her brother, he was little more than a child himself when he watched his family slaughtered. Chiyoh did not go into detail about the suffering the boy faced in order to survive, but there was enough for Will to join the dots. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Will listened to the retelling of the formative event in his soulmates early life and he couldn’t help but feel sympathy. A boy, little more than skin and bone, with an insatiable hunger and eyes so dark that light would not penetrate them for a thousand years, sprung to Will’s mind. The bloodied snow of that winter could certainly have birthed a monster.  

Chiyoh’s voice roused him from his thoughts, “It was always inside him,” she said. “They just unleashed it and gave it direction...they rued the day.”

Will nodded. Dark bottomless eyes came to his mind, the man who grew from that boy still hungered. He understood now.

“The one in the cellar, he’s one of them.”

“Yes, he found him but I wouldn’t let him kill him.”

“So he left you here to guard him.”

“Hoping I’d kill him.”

“To free yourself.”

Will sighed, he was tired now, bone numbingly tired. He needed a bed to lie down, to rest even if he thought it unlikely he’d sleep. He rubbed his hands through his hair and stretched open his eyes, “that man’s life in exchange for your daughters.”

He closed his eyes without looking at her, he could imagine the look that said, you’re just as bad as him.

Only the clink of cups indicated she had risen from her chair, “be sure you want to be with him before you tell him what you are, he will never let you go.”


End file.
